I’m not sure what Chloe is thinking, but we need to regroup. I’m regretting not telling her about the girlfriend thing earlier, but I thought it would be easier if it wasn’t staged, more natural. Chloe is not a natural.

“What is happening out there?” I ask when we’ve cleared the main dining room.

“What do you mean?” she asks.

“We’re not on the same page at all.”

“I’m sorry. If you wanted a solid relationship back story, I need more than three minutes’ notice.”

“I thought it would be more natural if we winged it. Less pressure to perform.”

“That sounds like your insecurity, not mine,” she fires back.

“I’ve never had any complaints.” I smirk.

Chloe’s eyes find the ceiling and I feel my lips tug upwards. I could go back and forth with her all night, but that’s not why we’re here.

“You’re practically on the other side of the table.”

“And?”

“I need you to touch me,” I say.

Chloe’s eyes go wide.

“I thought you said this wasn’t that kind of favor.”

“Like we’re together. Make it believable.”

“You want me to make out with you at the table?”

“God, no.” I have to pinch the bridge of my nose, and take a moment to gather myself. When I find Chloe less infuriating, I open my eyes again. “Fred and Frankie are an affectionate couple. Try to match their energy. Act like you’ve touched me before. Like we’re familiar with each other. Can you do that?”

“I think so.” She nods slowly, mulling it over. “I don’t have much experience in this department.”

For the first time tonight, I look at her. It was impossible to miss the dress, that scrap of material hit me over the head the moment she stepped out of the car. Now, my eyes rake over Chloe’s face. Her big blue eyes, her pouty lower lip that is caught between her teeth. Her long, red hair has been straightened. It’s glossy and thick, but I prefer the wild waves she had last night. The delicate gold chain around her neck dips into the hollow where her clavicles meet.